Let The World Think Otherwise
by Wolf With Morals
Summary: "Do you think…this is what hell would be like? Seeing all your control stripped away and realizing just what you are? After all that psycho-analyst talk about taking off the mask…do you think that at the very core everyone is as blood-thirsty, lustful, and filled with hate as me?" The Keeper and Darian ask some questions about QSM.
1. No Tests!

Hello, I haven't written anything other than school home-work stuff in a long time, but I have a ton of half-finished Fan fictions floating in my computer from years ago... I figured maybe putting them up might get me motivated to work on them in my down time.

Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

You may not be like me… okay, let me say that a bit more honestly, you're _not_ like me. But, we are similar in this way at least, we all want to let our guard down. I think everyone wants -at some point- to do and say what they really want to. It might be a part of being human, always wishing you could actually say what's on your mind. You might be thinking,_ that_ is exactly how you wish the world was…and let me tell you, it's not pretty. I know, because every few days I go insane…and the world gets to see the unrestrained me. I'm reminded of the poem by Paul Dunbar that ends with this snippet, "Let the World think otherwise, we wear the Mask!" unfortunately, in my little world, they get to see me in all my uncontrolled-unmasked glory…way too much.

"Darien, sit down and stop talking. Now!" Keep shouted in all her moody British indignation, scrambling for the counter agent.

I watched the needle, one half craving the rush it provided before I returned to sanity and the other half wanting to scream at the idea of being suppressed again. I leaped to the seat, extending my arm. "I'd argue, but this head ache is about to send my skull in opposite directions and leave brains on the walls…Ahhhh!" I screamed as a freezing pain just at the base of my skull made me shudder at the moment of blissful unrestrained emotion, another second and it was gone. My left hand slammed itself against my eyes, as if trying to shut out the light would delay the chilling red that was overtaking me.

"You're all right. You're fine, you're fine, Darien." Keep chanted, pressing the needle into my neck with gentleness that she probably shouldn't have shown with me so close to madness. I shuddered, feeling the burning rush of the liquid, it was a savior from the cold, icy secretions from the gland. I warmed immediately, my brain hazing for a moment as I tensed and shivered without restraint, only to relax and slump into a drugged daze for a few minutes.

"He okay? You okay, Partner? I swear, I never know if he's just gonna snap lately. I never know if you're gonna snap, can't you give me warning? I mean we had this guy, we had a real nasty deal backed against the wall and then… I can't believe we just had to give up!" Bobby had come in ranting.

I smiled drowsily and slowly opened my eyes, feeling like my mind was made of sponge…soft and full of holes. I took a long breath, blinking my eyes wide and trying to bring myself around.

Keep was chewing her lip, like she did when she was nervous. She shook her head slowly and leaned back on the table behind her. "I hate to say it, but he's right Darien. With the immunity you're building to the counter agent, it would be nice to know exactly what sort of attack you're going to have. Now, don't start getting concerned, but I've been keeping track of your Quicksilver Madness…" The Keeper motioned her hand in a little dismissive circle, and clicked her heels over to a cabinet, she snatched a book from inside. "From what I've been able to keep track of, you have two broad -but distinctly different- reactions to the build up of Quicksilver." She thumbed through the pages.

I furrowed my brow, glancing at Bobby, who looked worried about something, as always. I swear, the man is constantly on the verge of going for his gun, it's like he lives just waiting for the trap to spring. For as crazy as he is, the paranoia he spreads has kept me alive these last few years. He noticed me staring and reached over, clapping me on the shoulder.

The Keeper continued, looking earnestly up from her book with a small smile on her lips. She was a scientist… that much was sure. "Now, there are times where you go straight to full-blown Quicksilver Madness, no real indications to you or anyone else. Those are the most dangerous. I think they are caused by a swift flow of Quicksilver without any problems. But, the times where you have pain before the madness sets in might be from some sort of clotting in the gland itself, releasing small doses until the flood gate bursts and the clot is destroyed in the out-pour of Quicksilver." She finally paused for a breath and I just blinked at her a few times. Unsure of what it mattered at the moment. It wasn't really news that these attacks were sort of unpredictable and varied in intensity of early symptoms.

"And…so? What does that have to do with us people who don't keep diaries about other people's medical conditions?" I asked with a bit an eye-roll, I couldn't help myself. Now that my snake tattoo was green, I checked, and it was, I was eager to get out of this stupid lab.

Keeper glared at me, and jabbed her finger into the paper. "That means that all I have, after all this time, is two broad guesses at how this works!" She sighed, and crammed her fingers into the little indentations between her eyes, working them in little circles. "All right. Simply put, because of the fact that you are building towards complete immunity… I want to run some tests. I want to know exactly what is happening when you start hitting Quicksilver Madness, is there any way to safely channel off the-"

I jumped off the chair, waving wildly. "Whoa, back up here. I am going to stop this right now with the "run some tests"! There is no way, at all, that I am going to sit around in the lab and let you poke and prod me just to add something to your little book there. It's your job to figure out how to fix this, so do something."

"I'm trying! It's hard when the only person I can possibly use to figure out how to "fix it" refuses to spend a few days in the lab!"

"No, you're not trying to fix this, you're satiating that sick little scientist curiosity of yours." I liked Keep, I really did, but she was always just that step away from being the Fatman's lackey with a needle. I never quite forgot that.

I glanced back for support, Hobbs was chewing the side of his thumb, his eyes looking hesitant. He finally spoke, "I dunno, Partner. You've had one close call after another the last couple'a weeks. Maybe a few tests to see what's going on in that cactus you call a head wouldn't be the worst."

"Absolutely not. No! I am not going to be trapped down here. Come on Hobbes, let's go get that man…that man we were following. Big, bad guy with an ugly nose, what was his name?"

"Barlim, ties to a big gun smuggling ring… he's right, Keep. We got bigger things to do than let you poke around his head. We'll uh…take a rain check, yeah?" Hobbes, despite the fact he was a paranoid, greedy, madman… was always there to get my back. For all the times I hated him, I was glad to have him around to be someone I could trust in this weird world I lived in.

"I already talked to the Official. He gave me a green light on taking you out of commission for a few days." Keeper pulled out her last card, and I was almost beaten…except that I didn't care much what the Official wanted most of the time. I shrugged, heading for the door.

"Sorry, tell him I'm booked right now. I'll let you know when a few days open up." I stomped off, leaving her to do whatever with my defiance, Bobby stuck next to me, his face grim.


	2. No Ammo!

"I said drop the guns!" The resounding crackles of gunfire left Bobby's demand laughable, seeing as he was just one man with a limited number of rounds in that handgun and he was facing off against three mercenaries. I was still pressed against a broken car, wondering if I dared run for it, and knowing that I'd been invisible for a long while. If I moved from my unfortunate spot, trapped just to the left of where Hobbes was hunkered, I could get caught in the crossfire and if I shed the Quicksilver, they'd shoot me anyway.

"The meaning of between a rock and a hard place is all cliché until you're stuck in these sort of situations." I muttered, knowing that Bobby had to run out of ammunition soon. I inched towards where the mercenaries who had just received their shipment of new gear- were hidden. If I could make it there, I could take them out. I just had to find a way to dodge all these bullets. I scuffled along, trying to make it around the outcropping of ruined cars and not to hold my breath.

Bobby had Monroe on her way, I'd heard that much over the gunfire. That woman would definitely be bringing some sort of gun and some extra clips. I'd been trapped in this awkward place for the last thirty-ish minutes, not wanting to get shot and not knowing what to do.

I was cold from the Quicksilver that covered my body, and I tried to remember how long I should have with the new faster rate I was burning through counteragent. I had no idea. Bobby and I had been prowling around for a few hours, stopped to that hotdog place, went off to where some informant of Bobby's squealed on the gun dealers…ended up in a junk yard…yup, that was pretty much my day. As I already knew, my life was a baffling mixture of fear, exhilaration and a sense of justice. It was even more baffling as I was an ex-con who should have been playing scrabble with some mean tattooed punk in a prison somewhere.

I heard Monroe's shouting at Bobby during a lull in gunfire. That was good, she was a good shot. The lull continued, and I decided to make a run for it, I sprinted around the pile of cars that would have forced me into the center of the gun fight. I slid across the hood of a car, slamming into the ground next to a really fleshy man who stank of old whisky and berma shave. He didn't notice as he was busy firing a round towards Bobby and Monroe.

Taking a moment to collect my thoughts, I placed my hand on the ammunition next to him and made it invisible, dragging it away from him. I worked my way around the mercenaries, removing everything they weren't currently looking at. It only took another five minutes before one of them ran out of bullets. A tiny woman with a severe blonde bob cut and bright pink lipstick swore and began glancing around for her missing extra gun.

It was a gun I was holding. As the others began running out, they started looking edgy, some were checking their pockets for hidden weapons. But, obviously they had already used up and tossed their usual pistols. I waited another moment, and then fingered the gun and eyed the whip-thin man with an ugly red mustache. I eased my fingers around the metal and took a deep breath, pulling the trigger. I shot the flabby man in the leg, and he squealed, rolling around in the dirt a second before righting himself and looking a heck of a lot scarier he did a moment ago before I shot him.

The thin man with the 'stache pointed right at me. "It came from that direction. My guess would be a sniper." He pivoted around the flabby man and used him as a human shield of sorts. Still pointing, "Close range though. I'm not seeing him."

"Who say's it's a 'him?" The tiny blonde said in a soft voice, she pulled a one shot pistol from her thigh-length boot and shot directly at me.

I heard the crack of the gun and was glad I had moved as soon as she pulled it out. I felt it clip my ear, blood splattered down in invisible blotches on my shoulder. At the same time, I felt a gentle intensity at the base of my skull. It was a mild pressure that was building faster than I could react, a shot of further freezing liquid shot into my brain. I gasped, almost losing my grip on my invisible gun.

Without thinking about it, I fired another shot at the thin red-head and he fell.

Another stab of ice through my skull, and this time, the gun did drop from my hands. I also dropped, slamming my face into the metal of a detached car door I had been standing on. I felt the Quicksilver melting off, and I looked up with the cold red eyes of my true self.

The blonde woman looked shocked, but not completely off guard. I launched myself at her, a hissing in my ears, so like little voices chanting their encouragements of violence, deadened the sound of her gasp as I caught her throat.

I squeezed, slamming her head into the car she'd been hiding behind, I hit it harder the second time. She was thrashing, obviously trained in some sort of fighting style. I just shook my head, instinct took over and I ran my nose up her pale and soft neck, taking in that expensive perfume she'd doused herself with. As her lips began to turn purple, I smiled and gave her a look of sympathy. "So hard to find a lipstick that covers lack of oxygen… you know, it's very unflattering." I hissed, and cracked my neck, waiting for her to pass out. Defiantly, she slammed her hands against my chest and a knee into my groin. I let out a long breath and hit her head against the metal with every once of strength in me, her eyes rolled back. I hit it again, just as hard, and something cracked. I didn't stop though, I slammed her lolling head again… and then ran my fingers down her soft cheek.

The ice in my mind made me cold, calculating and very, very free. I stood up, glancing at the flabby man who was crawling towards the pile of weapons that were just becoming visible again. I sauntered over and kicked him in the gut, he grunted and flopped over in the dirt.

With the ensuing silence, I could hear people arguing as they came closer. It took me a moment to realize they were the agents I'd come with. But, that didn't matter now. What did matter was that I had won. I climbed onto the pile of guns and sat down on a crate of ammo, idly picking up a rifle as I made my way to my throne.

Hobbsie came first, looking at the head shot I had taken at the man with the lip caterpillar, and then the neck of the woman…that lovely blonde. Monroe was checking the pulse on the walking blubber.

Suddenly, Hobbes looked at me, as if just realizing I was sitting watching. He groaned, "Okay, come on, put the gun down. You're in no condition to have a fire arm. We can talk this out like rational people here." He was putting his own gun away, as if I needed an example…and then he held out his hands 'comfortingly'. "How about that?"

"I'm sorry, Hobbsie, agent Monroe…I just don't feel like being rational right now. I really feel like aiming this rifle…how about that?" I responded calmly, picking at some dirt that had gotten into a crevice near the trigger of the gun.

"Uh, that wouldn't be a good idea. 'Cause you'll regret it later." Hobbes said in his most sincere tone, even as he motioned for Monroe to go back to the truck. Under his breath he whispered, "Go get that vial of counteragent, we're gonna need it." She didn't seem to be in the mood to argue anymore, not while I was trying to decide which of them to shoot first. Hobbes approached, even as she retreated toward the van, and that made the choice a lot easier.

"Oh, I wouldn't come any closer if I was you." I sing-songed, tucking the butt of the rifle under my armpit and waving it in Bobby's direction.

Bobby slowed, his eyes concerned, but not for his life, for me. That man was an idiot, I hated idiots. I brought the gun level to his chest, I was sure I couldn't miss from this distance. Hobbes stopped, and gave a flickering grin.

"You wanna put that down?"

"Not really. You want to make me?" I taunted from my throne of weapons, making a fake bang noise as I leaned back a little with my gun at my side.

"No, just asking." Hobbes responded, I watched his eyes dart around, looking for some way to incapacitate me, that was always the way. Just when things started getting interesting, they'd inject me and force me to conform to their rules again.

I'd never shot a friend before. The idea seemed novel, after all, if I never tried it, how would I know I didn't like it? What worked for eating lima beans might also work for murder.

Aiming the gun for his heart, I gave Bobby a little smile. "It was fun, but I have the feeling this is going to be a lot more fun." I tightened my finger, and watched his eyes go from concerned to afraid. He ducked and rolled, even before I'd shot my first bullet.


End file.
